Chapter 74 On the Subject of Family

It was a quiet week that followed the storms that had devastated the British Magical World, and left them reeling on the brink of the abyss. They were perched on the edge of the knife and everyone, including those that had tried not to pick a side in the war, knew it.

The Death Eaters had free reign of the whole country and had stepped up their attacks against the squibs, decimating their population by the hundreds. There only word that could accurately describe the situation facing the Squib population was Genocide. As cruel as it was, many were quietly hoping that Voldemort would focus his attention on the Squibs, and give the rest of the magical world a chance to do something.

But for Harry, there were more immediate and pressing concerns as he did what he could, mostly just by being there, for Fleur and Gabrielle as the sisters danced around each other, alternating between screaming matches that rattled the windows in their frames to sitting quietly, comforting each other to just crying into each other's shoulders. Quietly, Harry had worked behind the scenes, ensuring that Gabrielle would have everything she would need to continue her education at Hogwarts. Even with Dumbledore there, Hogwarts was still a bastion of safety.

Keeping his ear to the ground, Harry had also learned the fate of Auror Command. Amelia Bones had survived, as had roughly twenty Aurors. They were all that remained of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. The Unspeakables from the Department of Mysteries had held their own and held the Ministry but their ranks had also been pulverized. Already there were whispers that the Department had essentially shut down, sealing away whatever they were working on and destroying whatever could not be safely stored or otherwise secured.

Harry did not bother attending class for almost a week – as an emancipated minor, he didn't have to worry. Reports from his friends made clear that the castle was fully secured and locked down. Indeed, there were Legionnaires patrolling the Castle throughout the day and night. Dumbledore had said nothing and was more than likely relieved that nearly the entire student body had rallied when he had made his own call to arms, at the welcome feast.

If only he knew that the Legion was not acting on his behalf at all, but on Harry's orders, communicated via House Elf and communication mirrors. Slytherin House was well and truly isolated now, with the few exceptions being those caught on the Hogwarts Express. They were not exactly welcomed into the fold, but they were given a great deal more latitude, unlike some – Draco Malfoy and his ilk. They ruled the roost in their dungeon but in the rest of the school, they toed the line. Tensions were high across the board, and several minor impromptu duels had broken out for reasons that ranged from the sublime to the ridiculous and obscene.

Harry had planned to return to Hogwarts towards the middle of September after taking time to sort things out with Fleur, and also to get to know Gabrielle a little better. The trunks, bought by Harry so many months ago proved their worth as their integrated Floo Network that linked the trunks allowed them to leave the castle undetected in the evening and return in the morning without being missed.

It was late in the night when the Legion Core met, and welcomed Fleur back. Though they had not seen her for several months and had next to no contact with her, they were all secretly pleased when she returned. Indeed, her presence saw a marked shift in Harry. For one thing, he quit smoking. For another, his temper was on a more even keel.

"Sexual tension…" began Fred

"….and frustration," continued George, "must have made life difficult around here while she was away." There was a good bout of laughter, and if nothing else, it made the situation very clear to Fleur: She was welcome amongst them.

Luna, Colin, and Neville had wisely said nothing about his other problem: Binge drinking. He seemed to have stopped drinking beyond a social bottle of Butterbear, or measure of Firewhiskey with Griphook.

With Harry planning to return to Hogwarts with Fleur and Gabrielle, they were gathered in the meeting room adjacent Harry's study, absorbing a long list of information that was nothing but bad news. The meeting had gone on for over an hour and they were just wrapping things up, "So to conclude," Sighed Amelia quietly, "The Department of Magical Law Enforcement is now a paper department. The Department of Mysteries is in almost the same condition. Most of the Department heads were killed. The Minister continued to dither, at a complete loss as to what he should be doing about the situation." She concluded, "I believe that Death Eater infiltration is almost total. And there is nothing we can do about it."

"Your people, their families, are they safe?" he asked.

"As safe as they can be under a suite of wards and the Fidilius Charm. I can do no more."

"No," agreed Harry with a sigh, "I don't see how you could do anything else."

Harry turned his attention to Griphook, "What of Gringotts and the Goblins?"

"We stand ready to fight, but the High Council still sees this as a matter between the wizards and will not intervene. They will not as they see no profit to be made in going to war."

"They don't see the fires of war will spread and consume them as well," said Luna quietly, "Voldemort will not stop until the only magical race left in the country, in the world is wizardkind." There was general agreement around the table, "What about the other races, will they fight?"

Griphook nodded, "Some of the werewolves will fight with us, in exchange for Wolfs Bane to keep them safe during the change. Many others are either planning to leave the country or perhaps join Voldemort." Griphook smiled evilly, "Those in the last category have been...dealt with." He took a moment to sip his whiskey before continuing, "The Vampires have no real interest in this war. Indeed, they are departing the country as we speak, to all four corners of the globe. They see no reason to involve themselves one way or the other. The few Giants which remain are unfortunately firmly in Voldemort's camp: He has been making overtures to them for the past two years."

"At least they seem smart enough to realize that there is going to be no middle ground in this war," remarked Neville.

It was the twins that had the courage to ask the one question that none of them wanted to address, in their typical fashion, "How's Moony?"

There was silence as everyone turned to Harry, the only person to have seen and spoken to the last of the Marauders. Harry shook his head, "He's… I think he's worse than I ever was." He breathed a sigh, "There was something between them," he didn't have to specify who "them" was. Everyone knew the love story between the werewolf and the Auror. "Something like, what I have, and… have had. I don't know how to help him." He hesitated, wondering how much he should reveal, but then decided to take the full plunge, "When I spoke to Amelia Bones earlier…. She passed a message from Tonks to Remus. She called him his Alpha."

"Oh wow," said Luna. For a moment, there was the hint of the old, dreamy Luna Lovegood, before the murder of her father had hardened her. It was gone in an instant, "Oh… bugger." The rest waited for a moment as she marshaled her thoughts, "Their relationship was fully consummated," she explained quietly, "Much like yours and Fleurs," which brought a round of sniggers from everyone gathered.

"So we've heard," said Colin with a laugh.

"Mine and Colin's is also fully consummated you know," she added as an afterthought. Colin wasn't sure which would cause him to die of embarrassment first: The wolf whistles and catcalls of the Twins, or the looks of incredulous disbelief on Ginny and Neville's faces.

"If she referred to him as Alpha, then, they were as good as married… and werewolves, like wolves in the wild, mate for life." A dropped pin would have echoed like a gunshot in the ensuing silence, "He will never find another." She confirmed. Out of everyone gathered in the meeting room of Potter Manor, only two people could come close to imagining whatever it was that the werewolf was feeling: Harry and Griphook.

"We do what we can," said Harry, "All of us. Beyond that, I don't know what we can do." He felt helplessly out of his depth here, frustrated that he could do nothing for a member of his rather odd family. Fleur gently took his hand in hers and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Any other Legion-related business? Good. Can someone fill me on the welcome feast?"

A memory was brought forth and dropped in a Pensieve. With a wave of a wand, the memory –courtesy of Luna – was projected upon the wall for them to watch. The welcome feast had gone ahead and it was only after the tables had been cleared did Dumbledore rise to speak, "Welcome to our new students and welcome back to those who are returning for another year at Hogwarts! First, allow me to get the unpleasantness of reminding you of the rules out of the way. The Forbidden Forest is, of course, forbidden, and Mister Filch has informed me that the complete list of banned items is available in his office.

"There is one addition to our staff," Dumbledore said, motioning to a man sitting on the right side of the high table. "For those of you who remember him, Remus John Lupin has agreed to once again stay at Hogwarts to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. Given the situation outside these walls, I implore that you listen to Professor Lupin's instruction." There had been a lot of mumbling and muttering from Slytherin House at the werewolf's return, something which Dumbledore addressed immediately:

"Professor Lupin suffers from the curse known as Lycanthropy. He is, however, getting the support necessary, with continuous access to the Wolfsbane Potion, as well as a secure facility for his monthly change which occurs during the full moon. Anyone," Dumbledore's voice had dropped from friendly and polite to no-nonsense, and outright dangerous, "who is found to be interfering with the supply of Wolfsbane, or to treat Professor Lupin with anything but courtesy and respect he is due as a person, will answer to me personally." That had silenced the whispers instantaneously.

"As I told you last year, Lord Voldemort has returned." Dumbledore paused as the students gasped. "The Ministry for Magic continues to deny his resurrection and has put our society at a great disadvantage. This has caused Hogwarts and the Ministry to have something of a… falling-out… but rest assured, Hogwarts and its staff will always protect the students who walk these halls."

More muttering and whispers, "And at this time, I must apologize, for my failures last year to protect this school, and all of you, for allowing Ms. Umbridge to have unfettered access, to disrupt your lives. Such a failure will not happen, ever again." He paused and collected himself, "Ms. Umbridge, is but the last straw in a list of grievances that stretches back a number of years that have brought Hogwarts into conflict with the Ministry of Magic." Another breath, "It is for that reason that Hogwarts has severed ties with Cornelius Fudge and the Ministry for Magic. Your studies will continue unaffected, but make no mistake, that we are now, at war with Lord Voldemort," a collective shudder ran through many of the students, except for the Legionnaires and the muggle-born first years that had no idea what was going on.

"Voldemort will stop at nothing until he has this country in his grasp. There is nothing that he will not do, no law, no moral code, no boundary that is sacred to him." The colors of the four houses which decorated the Great Hall vanished and were replaced by banners of black, "Tonight, as we have done before, we mourn the passing of Hogwarts students, stolen from us long before their time. Tonight, we honor them, and we thank them, for without their courage and sacrifice many more would not be here to partake of our feast."

"The world outside these walls is no longer safe," he said. "The threats posed by both the resurgence of Voldemort and the corruption of the Ministry are real and grave. For this reason, Hogwarts will be open to all who seek haven within its fortifications. The castle will be expanded to house any who look here for refuge, so I encourage you all to implore your families to consider taking up residence."

Dumbledore returned to his seat, wishing there was something he could do to change the somber atmosphere. In the end, he simply said, "There is no place truly safe anymore as long as Voldemort is allowed to run free. However, Hogwarts is safer than most, not because of her many wards and defenses, but simply because I know that for many of you this is your home. We will not let our home be overtaken and destroyed without a fight. Voldemort may inspire fear, but he also feels it when he thinks of who is here, ready to oppose him."

Harry nodded, deep in thought, and then turned to address them, "I have one point of… personal business: Gabrielle Delacour."

Everyone who had met the 10-year-old could have seen the obvious resemblances of the sisters. Indeed, the Legion Core could see that she would be as beautiful as Fleur with waist-length silvery blond hair and a simply dazzling smile. There really was something angelic about the young girl, but everyone had already seen her working out her rage and grief in the training room. Given her age, it was only her anger, bitterness, and pain that when combined with her Veela heritage, had let her channel her magic, and thus use a wand. The spells were, uneven to say the least, but it gave her an outlet, which was precisely what she needed.

"You'll do what is right," said Neville, "I don't think we really need to discuss this any further." There was agreement around the table, "Fleur's either getting a job at Gringotts again, or going to be working in Hogwarts, or working with Legion. And there is no way you would let Gabrielle out of your sight." He shrugged, "No way Fleur's going to let her out of her sight either." Fleur nodded ever so slightly.

Things were strange, not awkward between everyone, and Harry still had difficulty grasping that, but then he was not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. He shrugged, "Then it's time for me to make a return to Hogwarts." He looked around the room, "Tomorrow. Thanks, everyone."

The meeting broke up and the various members of the Legion took the Floo back to their respective trunks or to the Residence well beneath the bedrock of the castle before returning to the classroom via Moaning Myrtle's second-floor toilet. Colin and Luna were the last two to leave, leaving the reunited lovers together. "Fleur," he said, "You are sure? That you want to work at Hogwarts? It's not going to be easy."

They both knew the memories and horrors the place held for them both, spanning from the Triwizard Tournament. Fleur only nodded, "It is the only way to ensure that Gabrielle is safe. I can take up a position as a teaching assistant in any subject, and still be close to you." She took his hand in hers, almost shy of the physical contact. She had him back, and would never make the same mistake again, would not let him go ever again. Everything had made her slightly clingy, but only in private. There was an irrational fear that Harry could drop down, stone dead at a moment's notice. She knew it was fear and insecurity over the death of her parents and knew it would pass when it passed. Until then, the little touches and gestures were enough to keep her calm and reassured.

"If you are sure," said Harry, holding her hand, "I'll make sure that Gabrielle is sorted into the house of her choice. I'm thinking she would do best in Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff."

"Not Gryffindor?"

"Ron," said Harry simply, "I don't trust him and if he thought he could somehow use her to get to you or me, he wouldn't hesitate – the little bastard," growled Harry. "The Death Eaters have probably infiltrated every house, but they won't act without orders. Ron… well…. Ron being Ron, he's a little short in the brains department."

She nodded. What he said did make sense. She pulled herself into his arms and sighed softly as he held her. No words were spoken as they stared out the window, across the gardens of the Manor. It was as if they both caught sight of the same patch of the garden at the exact same moment. For the couple, it brought back a memory, one that both of them cherished, though for different reasons. For Harry, it was one that could power a Patronus with ease. It was the day, or rather the evening when Fleur had told him that she was pregnant with their daughter. He sighed softly, wishing that things could be different. He clamped down on that line of thought. It would drive him insane if he dwelled on it, and he ruthlessly refused to do that.

Fleur remembered the same evening, one that had filled her with fear, then relief and giddying happiness. She had wondered how Harry would have reacted, both the good and the bad. Suffice to say that Harry's reaction had been everything she had hoped for and so much more. "If only," she whispered to herself, "J'taime ma petite."

"I love her too," whispered Harry. He was in a way, envious of Fleur, that she had been able to spend time with their daughter. But then, she had needed it more than he did. He didn't grudge her the time but wished he'd been able to share it, somehow.

They said nothing more, but stood together, his arms wrapped around her waist, her hands entwined with his, as they watched the sunset. The sound of bare feet padding across the floor brought them out of their reverie for a moment, long enough for Harry to hoist the ten-year-old girl up with one arm, the other still firmly wrapped around Fleur.

Given the closeness of the bond between the sisters, Gabrielle had felt the shift in Fleur's emotions, which had turned inwards, to thoughts of Aimee. It had brought Gabrielle into the room. She certainly had not minded when Harry hoisted her into his arms, and somehow managed to hold her and her older sister.

Veela, even those who are part Veela, enter puberty at a significantly younger age. Gabrielle was no exception: Ten years old in body perhaps, but closer to a mature – by comparison – fifteen in her mind. Just like her sister: Seventeen in age, but closer to twenty-one in her mind. The night was as close to perfect as it could be. The path ahead of them was filled with more challenges than they would ever imagine.

Fortunately, their return to Hogwarts was the least of their problems as Gabrielle was quickly sorted into Ravenclaw House. Harry had also exchanged a few words with the Headmaster and they had somehow managed to trash out some form of agreement: Fleur suddenly found herself gainfully employed as Harry's assistant to manage any and all matters that he placed under her purview, which necessitated an office within the castle. It was a simple and effective way for Harry to keep Fleur close to Gabrielle. Dumbledore has wisely agreed without a fight, and the one hundred and fifty-seven-year-old wizard breathed a sigh of relief: At least Harry was back at Hogwarts. He had feared that after his disappearing act the night before, he would not return to Hogwarts, as he was perfectly entitled to do as an adult.

It was a return to some measure of normalcy within the castle. The usual routine of classes, homework, and routine established itself. But the Legion was anything but inactive. Indeed, it continued its training and began to concoct a series of plans. The Legion was fully aware that it was only a matter of time before Voldemort made a move against another target, and quite possibly moved against Hogwarts itself. The Ministry still stood, but it was at best a tissue paper government that had essentially nothing left to do: Fear was the norm, and the attacks against witches and wizards, squibs, and even muggles had continued almost unabated. Every day there were fresh reports of attacks and more and more people were streaming into Hogwarts in search of refuge from the coming storm.

The attack upon the Hogwarts Express had already proven the lengths to which not only Voldemort but also his Death Eaters would go to rule the country. It was a matter of time before the Death Eaters marched on Hogwarts, something which frustrated Harry no end as they intensified their preparations as best they could. Thanks to his foresight and the Goblins, they had amassed an incredible stockpile of resources ranging from the bare necessities of food and water, medicines and potions, potions ingredients, and just about everything else that could be imagined.

The caches were vast and secreted across the country, in a series of caches and safe houses that Griphook had purchased and arranged with Harry's approval. Indeed, across the country, there were over two dozen such properties, each capable of sustaining a maximum of thirty people, who would not have to step outside for anything for not less than six months. Needless to say, two such locations were Potter Manor and Grimmauld Place.

The Twins, however, had refused to abandon their premises in Diagon Alley, and kept the store open and staffed as did the rest of Diagon Alley, which continued to do a very brisk trade in the essentials as witches and wizards the length and breadth of the country began to horde. Needless to say, sales suffered but they were still relatively profitable since they had expanded their product line to include a variety of muggle board games. The games were a very subtle snub towards the pureblood elitists by virtue of their muggle origin, and incredibly profitable as the perfect way to pass the time when in hiding. Monopoly, Scrabble, and Uno became Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes' latest and most profitable cash cows. Indeed, the Hogsmeade branch of WWW opened since the summer had difficulty keeping the games in stock, something which amused the Twins no end.

Indeed, there had been discussion into making both WWW locations safe houses, but the idea was quickly vetoed by the twins themselves: They were businesses, and hiding them under the Fidilius would destroy them, not to mention the possible damage to morale across the country if the Twins seemed to go into hiding. Indeed, their latest product "U-No-Poo: The Constipation Sensation Sweeping the Nation" had buoyed the spirits of a weary populace.

What had given the Legion hope was a brief missive from the Master Unspeakable of the Department of Mysteries: without mincing words, he had covertly aligned his department and all of its resources behind Harry Potter. Their study into the "Effingus Problem" had merited some good news: The was a limit to how many Effingus could be created, and their wildest estimates put those numbers at between forty and fifty for every Death Eater in Voldemort's service. One thing that they had all noticed was that the Effingus were always members of the rank and file, never the more senior Death Eaters, or members of the Inner Circle, which made sense to Harry at least, "Can you imagine two Lucius Malfoy's running around? They'd either spend their time scheming against each other or scheming to overthrow Voldemort. He rules through fear and terror, he punishes without mercy. Two or three Lucius Malfoys would probably start working together to overthrow or kill him!"

Copies of Bellatrix Lestrange then made a creepy but near-perfect kind of sense to those who had even remotely heard of her adoration of her Dark Lord. Each copy would not only do everything in their power to please their master but would no doubt throw themselves at any threat without a care for their own lives. It was potentially the perfect cadre of bodyguards. One that Neville had put to an end in what was being regarded as one of the finest duels in recent history.

Harry had laughed, "It would save me the trouble of killing him." It was the way he spoke, that made clear that he could and would kill Voldemort, provided he was given a clean shot to get the job done. The trouble would be arranging that clear shot.

When someone had pointed out the Prophecy, and how Harry was the one who was destined or fated or "shanghaied" into killing Voldemort, there had been some surprise as Harry agreed, "I've got to be the one to kill him. That doesn't mean that a lot of people can't hack off his limbs before I kill him!"

In a now, somewhat less rundown Manor House on the outskirts of Little Haggleton, The Inner Circle of the Death Eaters gathered awaiting the arrival of the Dark Lord. The mood was somber as they all knew what they were gathered to discuss, amongst other matters. Well attuned to the mood of their Lord, the Death Eaters knew that the longer they had to wait, the worse things would be. Given that they had been waiting for almost half an hour, several somebodies were going to be on the receiving end of the Cruciatus Curse. The only question was who.

Draco Malfoy absently noted the arrival of his Lord, with his robes billowing in a remarkably Snape-like fashion. He quickly averted his gaze, staring at the tabletop as Voldemort took his seat. With a nod, the rest took their seats around the table. "Well?" it was not spoken; it was hissed, crackling with power like liquor poured over ice.

Wormtail hesitated then plowed ahead, "It is as we feared my Lord. The artifice will not withstand much more use. Already the cracks in the crystals grow larger. It is a matter of "if," but of "when"…" he trailed off, bracing for the pain he was certain would befall him for being the bearer of bad news. To his surprise, and dismay of the rest, Lord Voldemort merely nodded.

The only sound came from the crackling of the logs in the fireplace which had burned low, throwing a fitful light across the room which illuminated everything in half shadow. Despite sitting facing the flames, the light failed to reveal the face of Lord Voldemort, as if the light itself feared touching the face of the Dark Lord. In his trademark black robes, the only thing visible was his hands and the thirteen-inch yew wand which he rolled patiently between his fingers. "Disappointing Wormtail," he said, "But I foresaw this possibility, and even I would be… hard-pressed to replace the crystals. Indeed, their acquisition proved, problematic." His gaze made its way around the table, "But we have sufficient numbers to proceed as planned?"

"You do Milord," said Snape. With Lucius still rotting in Azkaban alongside a dozen or so Effingus, it fell to Severus Snape to take the place at the right hand of the Dark Lord. "Your infiltration of the Ministry is complete and we are poised to strike upon your command."

"Not yet, Snape," he said, "The Effingus should have been sufficient to tip the scales of this war in our favor, but now, we must ensure that we have the numbers to not only take, but to hold and secure the country, and impose my vision. First, we must take Azkaban."

The Death Eaters stared for a moment, one or two swallowed their gasps of surprise, "But My Lord," said Rockwood, "Azkaban has never been taken, though I am certain you have a plan?" he amended quickly.

While the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had been well and truly decimated, the administration of Azkaban was handled by a separate department, one which was self-contained upon the island which housed the prison. Indeed the Azkaban Guard was almost impossible to infiltrate, given the long-standing practice of ensuring that the complex was fully self-sustaining. The only access was via a secured Floo which had been in the Director of Law Enforcement Office, which had been destroyed just days before.

"Lord Voldemort has a plan," confirmed the Dark Lord, "The Dementors, our natural allies in this struggle are the key to overthrowing the Azkaban Guard." Though none could see his face, they could feel his face twist into its mockery of a smile, "The Dementors are poised to strike, but for now, we shall wait and see what further develops."

He turned his gaze upon Percy Weasely, "Percy, the time has come for you to prove your worth, and prove that you are worthy of your position at my side, as a member of this august body."

Percy stood and bowed deeply at the waist, "I am yours to command my Lord."

"Good. Good," he breathed, "You will take a contingent of Effingus and obliterate a family of blood traitors." The smile was felt, "I believe you are well acquainted with them: Arthur, Molly, Fred, and George." Silence greeted the command, "Your brother Ronald, knows what must be done with Ginerva. You strike tomorrow."

Percy was unable to keep the smile from his face. This was everything he had hoped for, "Your will be done, my Lord. Shall I alert my brother and fellow Death Eater to be ready to strike?"

"No. Ron will play his part when the time comes. For now, Percy, go forth and restore the honor of your family name." Percy bowed once more and left without a backward glance as he strode from the room.

"My Lord," Draco Malfoy hesitated for a moment, cringing in anticipation of pain, "What of Bill and Charlie Weasely?"

"The Goblin lover will be dealt with if he opposes us. Given he is currently in Egypt, he is of no consequence, as is the dragon tamer. Perhaps," mused the Dark Lord, "A dragon will spare us the task of killing him." There was a rustling of black fabric, "Severus, ensure that our… protégé carries out his task. You will accompany Percy upon his mission."

"As you command my Lord," said Snape

Lord Voldemort rose to his feet, and the others followed suit, bowing low, "Oh, and Wormtail," he added conversationally, "Crucio!" The scream of pain was the sound of music to Lord Voldemort, and he left the man a quivering pile of jelly upon the floor next to his chair, "You have failed me for the last time Wormtail. Next time, your failure will cost you your life."